


The Five Times Toby Called Happy 'Baby'

by WakeUpDreaming



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: 5 plus 1, Car Sex, F/M, Fluff, Pet Names, Sick Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And the one time she tried that nickname out for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Times Toby Called Happy 'Baby'

** 1 **

Toby runs into the garage with a panic so profound that he’s actually sort of whimpering. He dashes over to Happy’s workstation without a second thought and says, “You need to help.”

“I don’t need to do anything,” Happy says, offering him simply a look of uncertainty, “but I’d be willing to help if you told me what the hell was going on instead of barreling in here like a runaway train.”

“It died,” Toby says.

Happy frowns. “What did?”

Toby holds the victim up in his hands. “My iPod.”

Happy stares at him. “I mean, yeah? Those things are designed to reach complete failure by year five of use. I’m surprised it lasted this long.”

Toby slumps his shoulders. “You mean you can’t fix it?”

Happy stares at him like he just asked her if she’d ever ridden a motorcycle. “Don’t insult me,” Happy says, picking up the iPod. “I can fix anything. I just really hate Apple products because they have a stupid uppity battery removal rule and won’t let you take any of their things apart to fix them if their shoddy workmanship fails. Which it will.” She looks at the iPod. “And did.”

Toby nods like he knows what’s going on, but really he just hopes Happy can save the iPod. Frankly, eighty percent of his music is stuff his ex-fiancee downloaded that he never bought himself. He loses this iPod, he loses basically all of his favorite songs. And he loses the only good thing that ever came out of that relationship.

Happy takes the small but dense rectangle that holds Toby’s entire life and toggles the hold button.

“Jeez, Toby, this is really old.”

“Correct,” Toby says. “It’s 120 gigabytes and also was created in 2008. That doesn’t stop it from having all of my most important music on it.”

“I meant that it’ll be harder to fix,” Happy says calmly, “not judging you or anything. Although,” she peers at the scroll buttons, “the amount of wear on the back button makes me question the number of times you listen to the same song in a row.”

“Repetitive music helps me focus,” Toby says, feeling a little defensive.

Happy looks up and half smiles at him. “Understandable. You’re a little ADHD, Doc.”

Toby shrugs. “Clinical diagnosis, diagnosed by an engineer, same, thing.”

Happy laughs. “It’s good enough for me. Now sit down. I’ve got to work.”

“I can stay?”

She looks up at him. “If you behave yourself.”

Toby tries not the think about the way she said it. He tries even harder not to think of the look on her face when she said it.

Toby sits on one of the barstools behind Happy’s workstation, twisting around every once in a while when things get really tedious. He has no idea how she can focus so strongly on such tiny parts, but he’s grateful for it. It takes her an hour and forty-two minutes before she says anything.

“Alright,” she says, flipping the device over. “Let’s see if I worked my magic.”

She switched the hold button to “off” and then to “on again.”

The screen pops up, indicating a barely charged battery. But it’s alive.

“Yeah, baby!” Toby exclaims. He hugs Happy with one arm.

“Did you just call me baby?” Happy asks, looking confused.

“No!” Toby says. “I mean, technically. Sort of. I was more referring to the resurrection of my iPod.”

“You called your iPod baby? Because that might be even weirder.”

Toby would disagree or argue about it, but really he’s too happy about getting the music player back.

“Can I ask you a question?” Happy asks. Her arms are folded on the table, and she’s leaning closer to him.

Toby nods. “You can.”

“Why don’t you just move some of that stuff onto your laptop? That way you can just get rid of this piece of junk.”

“I’ve tried half a dozen times, but for some reason I can’t find the music files on the device. Even revealing hidden files doesn’t work.”

Happy whistles. “Well then,” she says, “we have work to do.”

Forty-five minutes, sixteen swear words, and he and Happy sharing a very small chair later, Toby has a copy of every song on his computer.

He beams at her. “You’re the best.”

He watches her lips flicker from his eyes to his lips, and he refuses to let himself wonder where it might go. “Yeah,” she says softly. She clears her throat. “I mean, yeah. I know.”

She hops up and grins at him. “Got to go fix some real problems.”

Toby watches her walk off.

** 2 **

Toby walks into the garage to see Happy shivering on the couch, curled into a little ball. He can actually hear her teeth chattering from the door.

“Happy?” he asks gently. “Are you okay?”

“M’fine,” she says. But she’s still shivering.

“It’s – it’s not that cold in here, Hap,” Toby says. He shrugs off his jacket and puts it over her shoulders, and he tries to shake off the concern that’s written all over his face. “Are you feeling sick?”

“I don’t get sick,” Happy bites back, but it comes out as more of a pathetic little groan. Toby decidedly doesn’t note the way that she curls up into his jacket.

“Let me make you some tea,” Toby says. “What hurts?”

“Nothing,” Happy says. Toby sits on the edge of the couch and raises his eyebrow. “Everything.”

“Does your throat hurt?” he asks gently.

Happy nods. “Razor blades.”

Toby stands and goes to the cabinets above the kitchen sink. He makes her some Throat Coat tea and puts in honey. He considers it for a moment and puts more in. Happy likes her coffee black, but other than that she poorly hides an intense sweet tooth.

“We’ll start with this,” Toby says, “and then going back to your apartment may be a good idea.”

“Can’t,” Happy says, “my heat is out. It’s a freezer.”

“Are you sure about that, or are you just cold,” Toby asks.

Happy half heartedly reaches out and pats him on the thigh.

“And what was that?” Toby asks, staring at her hand still on his leg.

“I was hitting you,” Happy says. “That was for suggesting my heat isn’t broken.”

Toby sighs. “Oh, poor baby,” he says.

Happy stares at him. “Did you just call me baby again?” Happy asks.

“Yeah, but not in a, like, romantic way or a teasing way,” Toby replies. “More of an aw, you poor sickly thing you kind of way.”

Happy nods, and curls under the jacket again, sipping from the mug of tea. She’s still shivering despite all the measures Toby has taken, and as much time as they spend in the garage the only blanket in there is Walter’s.

“Hug me,” Happy says.

Toby freezes. “Excuse me?”

“I’m cold and delirious,” Happy says, setting the tea on the coffee table. “We’re cuddling for warmth.”

Toby shifts against the couch, unsure of what the next step is, and Happy reaches up, grabs his shirt, and pulls him down to lay down behind her. He decides not to mention just how hard he smacks his head on the couch arm.

“Now put your stupid arms around me so I don’t freeze,” Happy says.

“Are we spooning?” Toby asks, a little disconcerted.

“Spooning for warmth,” Happy corrects. “This is a purely medically necessary act.”

“It’s just,” Toby feels Happy pulls his arms tighter against her, “I never pegged you as the little spoon.”

“Everybody likes to be held,” Happy mumbles so quietly that Toby’s considering the possibility that he wasn’t actually supposed to hear it.

They stay there for a while in silence. Within about ten minutes, Toby feels Happy’s breathing even out and her grip loosens on his hands.

He takes a hand a presses his wrist gently to her forehead to find her burning up. He shifts, intending to stand up, when Happy grabs his arm again and says, “No way, space heater.”

So Toby makes himself comfortable and stays there, playing 2048 on his phone until Happy rolls over against him around an hour later.

“My front’s cold,” Happy says. “Everything’s cold.”

“That’s because you’re sick,” Toby says, pulling her close. She fits so nicely in his arms and Toby decides to ignore the pangs in his heart. Happy doesn’t need him right now. Happy needs somebody to be there.

“What’s the diagnosis and treatment, Doc?” she asks, voice muffled by the way her face is pressed into his chest.

“Rest, lots of fluids, and some Mucinex. And maybe some Advil if the pain gets too bad.” Toby shifts. “I know you’re cold, but I’m going to run out and pick that up.” He thinks for a minute. “Along with a blanket.”

Happy nods and curls back against the couch. Toby leaves the jacket with her.

** 3 **

Toby’s not sure how they got here, but he’s pretty sure there’s nowhere else he wants to be. Happy’s on top of him in the back seat of her car, pulling her shirt off over her head.

“Can I get an explanation for how we went from you saving my life to you getting naked on top of me?”

“I realized,” says Happy, “that I’ve watched you almost die one too many times. Before today,” she reaches down to pull his shirt off. Toby shifts to make it easier. “Before today, you were always a shit head either before or after you nearly died, so I ended up pissed at you when you were dying. Even though I would save your dumb life every time.”

“Agreed,” Toby says. His focus falters when she kisses him again, long and languid and deep as her hands run through his hair. “Still not answering my question.”

“I’m sick of dancing around everything, and you finally grew up enough to stop being an asshole every time you were scared. So I figured,” she kisses him again, “I might as well do the same.”

“So is this like a long term thing or a wham bam thank you ma’am?” Toby pauses. “Sir. Thank you sir.”

Happy reaches back and unhooks her bra. Toby swears he’s hearing a choir of angels and unicorns in the background. “Well we’ll just have to see how good you are, now won’t we.”

Cars, Toby realizes, are one of the least rational places to get naked for the sole reason of the lack of space. But that doesn’t stop the two of them from colliding together within minutes. Toby briefly considers making a comment about how the environment is impacting his performance, but changes his mind when Happy shifts their position and starts moving faster.

The two of them are seeing stars in minutes, and the way Happy moans Toby’s name as she comes may go into his mental files of “best things ever” and bump down their first kiss as the number one.

Happy laughs as she kisses him, her hair sticking to her face, as Toby tries really hard to process what’s happened and how he can ensure he can be part of her for eternity.

“Well that was fun,” Happy says. She falls over to the seat next to Toby, pulling her black underwear up her legs. He’s surprised she could find them in the car – it’s surprisingly untidy.

“Fun is kind of an understatement,” Toby says. He feels a little like she’s hit him over the head with a wrench, but in a good way. In a very good way.

She looks over at him, pausing midway through putting on her jeans. “It was an understatement,” she says. Her tone is suddenly serious. “Hey, you’re not freaking out, are you?”

“Am I freaking out?” Toby asks. “Only in a good way. Like a, I can’t believe we did that and it was awesome, kind of way. Are you freaking out?”

She pauses then nods slowly. “I think I am.”

“In a good way?”

This pause is longer, a little more terrifying. “Oh, man, I have feelings for you.”

Toby blinks. He probably could have told her that a couple of years ago, but he’s just glad she sees it now. “And I have feelings for you too. Which you probably have known for a while.”

She smiles at him, and it’s a softer smile from Happy, one he’s never seen. “I kind of have known,” Happy says. She breaks eye contact and suddenly curls up on herself, the half-on jeans sliding back onto the floor. “We’re something now, right?”

Toby’s floored. Of all the people to ask that question, of all the people to ask it in that kind of terrified tone, he would have bet on it being him. “We’re anything you want us to be,” Toby says.

“Because I don’t – I don’t want you to have had this whole idea of me and then we do this and you’re like ‘Well, we’re not physically compatible and I’ve psychologically programmed myself to love the version of Happy I believe not the one that’s real so goodbye.’”

Toby stares at her. “Is that what I sound like to you?”

She shrugs. “Every once in a while.”

Something about it hits him hard. “I want every part of you, Happy. The good, the amazing, the angry, the slightly intimidating.” He chances reaching out for her hand. She holds his. “Everything. This just – it was another way for me to know how I feel. How I’ve always felt.”

Toby’s aware of how hard it must have been for Happy to have admitted all of that. Emotional communication has never been her strong point and now she’s sitting here, as vulnerable as he’s ever seen her, and she keeps talking. “Good,” Happy says. “Because I want you too.” She leans forward and kisses him, gentle and sweet. It’s a very un-Happy kiss. Or, Toby reconsiders, it’s a different side of Happy that he’s never seen before.

He gets his leg stuck in between her seat in the door when they try to leave, and Happy has to kick the seat a couple of times to get him loose.

“Thanks, baby,” Toby says absentmindedly. He only processes his words when Happy looks at him like he told her he raises baby ducks for a living. “Too much?”

“Way too much,” Happy agrees.

** 4 **

“Oh, you didn’t.”

Toby winces. “I might have.”

“Paige’ll kill you.”

“Paige always wants to kill me,” Toby says, trying to mop up the mess. “This will just give her a very good reason to do so.”

Toby winces as the shelf shifts again and pours more liquids onto the floor and into the refrigerator.

“I’ll get the towels,” Happy says, sounding resigned to her fate. Toby takes off his shirt to try and mop up the particularly sticky disaster of Walter’s electrolyte concoction mixing with Sly’s maple syrup, and all that ends up doing is gluing the shirt to the floor.

“And now my pants are stuck,” Toby says, groaning. He unbuttons his jeans and slides out of them, feeling suddenly very naked and very cold as he searches for something to put on.

Happy pops in and immediately gives him a once over that makes Toby feel even more naked than he did.

“Boxing is doing you real good,” Happy says, biting her lip.

“Like what you see, babe?” Toby says with a grin. He spins for her, shaking his butt a little bit for emphasis. “Yeah?”

“Toby –”

“Yeah, I know,” Toby says, “not into the nickname. It slipped out. I’ll come up with something better.”

“No, Toby –”

Toby finished his turn to find Happy standing frozen as Cabe walks in with Cooper.

“Is there any explanation to this that won’t disturb me for years?” Cabe asks, folding his arms across his chest.

“Doc decided he wanted to make pancakes and broke the fridge,” Happy supplies.

“You’re the one who said you were craving pancakes!” Toby defends. “And the shelf broke before I even picked up the milk, thank you very much.”

“Get towels and get dressed,” Cabe says flatly. “And then we’ll just all erase this from our memories.”

Happy brings over the towels. “For future reference,” she says, resting her hand on his stomach and walking around him, “I do like what I see.”

** 5 **

“Happy!” Toby calls, walking into the garage. It’s been a slow week – so slow, in fact, that Toby is antsy and has started reading peer review articles about the nature of relationships and the chemicals involved in love. For professional reference, of course. “Happy, you have any idea where I put that book on neuroscience?”

He can’t hear anything over her radio. It’s been running between rap, Beyoncé, and Shakira for the past two hours, so Toby thinks it’s about time to ask about turning it down.

“Happy?” he asks as he walks over to where she’s working on the car. “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira has started, and he sees her toe tapping from underneath the car.

He starts shaking his hips a little bit, dancing around the car. No response.

So he figures he can dance until Happy notices. Dancing isn’t his strong suit, but practice makes perfect, so he keeps it up.

“I’m on tonight and now my hips don’t lie,” he sings along, his voice high pitched as Shakira’s. He makes an effort to concentrate on the Spanish lyrics – he can speak it, read it, can’t quite understand it – while testing out a particular spin that lands him on the floor.

Quick as a flash, Happy rolls out from under the car. “What are you doing?” she asks, looking amused. “And why are you on the floor?”

“Because my hips don’t lie, Happy. They are honest as Abe.” As if to prove his point, Toby dances across the floor until he reaches Happy, who is looking at him like she’s trying not to laugh.

“How long have you been dancing here?”

“For exactly one Hips Don’t Lie,” Toby answers. He sits up and kisses her nose. “I am also privy to the knowledge that your hips don’t lie either.” He winks.

“One track mind,” Happy laughs. She’s covered in grease and oil, hair in the sloppiest bun in history. She’s got on one of his old shirts and a beat up hoodie, a pair of ripped jeans.

She’s never looked more beautiful.

“Hey, Happy,” Toby says, pulling her from her creeper and on top of him, “where’d you get that shirt?”

“You threw it in my laundry this weekend,” she says, resting her hands on his chest, “I figured that meant it was mine now.”

“It did not,” Toby says, sitting up. He’s pleased to see that she just shifts and wraps her legs around his back. Their faces are close, and Toby leans in to kiss her.

The radio switches to Single Ladies, and Toby leaps up, essentially dropping Happy on the ground.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m getting my dance on!” Toby says, trying and failing at the single ladies dance. “All my single ladies! This was my jam that year when Walter saved me from that bookie.”

Happy rolls her eyes and falls back onto the garage floor. “Of all the musicians to cock block me, it was Beyoncé.” She pouts and props herself up on her elbows. “Why couldn’t it have been Partition?”

“It could have been worse,” says Toby, “it could have been baby, baby, baby oh!”

Happy stares at him. “That is worse.”

** +1 **

“Mother – fucker – why – won’t – you – work?!”

Toby looks up from the article on the use of alternative and augmentative communication devices for adults with severe language impairments to see nothing of note.

“Alrighty then…” he says, returning to the article with a highlighter and a pen.

Then again. “Fuck you, you stupid metal!”

He makes the executive decision to get up and check outside, where he knows Happy was working on the van.

He sees her jumping up and down on a piece of metal that’s attached to a tire wheel.

“What are you doing there, Happy?” he asks hesitantly.

“I,” she says, jumping again, “am trying to unscrew this stupid lugnut,” she pushes at the wrench with her boot, “so I can finish rotating the tires,” she jumps on it again, “but this one won’t – ” she cuts herself off with an infuriated groan as she slides off the metal bar and onto the floor.

He blinks. “Is it – is it stuck?”

She gives him the most pissed off look in history. “No, it’s cooperating nicely, that’s why I’m jumping on it.”

Toby raises his hands in defense. “Sorry. Just wondering if there were alternatives than,” he gestures at her, “jumping on the metal.”

“There are,” she says, jumping again. She slips and lands on the ground, but before Toby can even react she’s back on the metal bar and jumping again. “I can’t use it though,” she grumbles, her last jump landing her perfectly perched on the wrench, her hand on her hips, “because the last time I set it up, the pressure was set too high and I screwed up the impact wrench.”

Toby decides not to a) ask how the pressure was set too high, or b) how she screwed up one of her tools. “Can I help?” he asks, still completely unsure of what’s happening.

She sighs, hopping down gracefully. “Usually I’d say no, but you weigh more than me.”

“Wait, it’s not even moving?” he asks.

She glares at him. “Apparently, all 117 pounds of me aren’t enough to make anything do what I want today.”

Toby tries to hide his grin, but he fails, and Happy pushes him gently on the arm. “Will you give it a shot?”

Toby looks at the wrench, at the wheel, and delivers one hard slam on it with one foot. It spins off about a quarter turn. Another kick and it’s loose.

“Damn, baby,” Happy says, looking impressed.

“Did you just – did you call me…?”

Happy looks confused. “I think I did.”

“I kind of liked it,” says Toby.

Happy nods slowly, putting her hands on her hips. “I kind of liked it too.”

Toby steps toward her and wraps a hand around her waist. “Want me to, uh,” he grins, “loosen the rest of your lugnuts?”

Happy stares at him with this mildly amused smile on her face. “You’re weird as hell for a shrink.”

“I’m weird as hell for an anything,” Toby corrects.

She laughs, then loops her arms around his neck. “How about I take a break from that car and we do something else for a while?”

Toby stares at her. “Won’t that put too much strain on the jack?”

Happy pats his cheek. “Oh, you’re cute when you think you know machines. But we can let the jack down and get back to it later.”

“I like the sound of that,” Toby says.

Happy takes care of the jack and leaves the van where it is. They have the garage to themselves, Toby realizes, and something flares in his chest as he recognizes the way Happy is pulling him toward her work bench. He’s damn near giddy as Happy hops up onto the bench and grins at him.

“You though I was hot when I was working on the car,” Toby teases.

“You thought it was hot when I called you baby,” Happy says, grabbing a handful of Toby’s shirt and dragging him close. He settles his hands on her thighs, thumbs running patterns against the fabric of her jeans. "Which one of those is dorkier?"

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Toby says, and he’s only a little off guard when she pulls him in and kisses the life out of him. His brain short circuits when she wraps her legs around his waist.

“God, you’re amazing,” Toby murmurs against her lips.

“I know,” Happy replies.

Toby leans back. “I help you loosen a lugnut and that’s all I get?”

“Fine, baby,” Happy says, lingering on the last word, and Toby watches her roll it on her tongue, “you’re amazing.”

“Much better,” Toby says.

“Now why don’t you come here,” Happy pulls her shirt off over her head, “and prove to me just how amazing you are.”

“Now that,” says Toby, moving his lips across Happy’s collarbone, “I can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> NaNoWriMo 2015's first production!


End file.
